


the best days of my life

by surelytothesea (fourhorsemen)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Fluff, M/M, Mutant Rights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourhorsemen/pseuds/surelytothesea
Summary: A series of vignettes of Erik and Charles through the years and how they gradually come to find out what they mean to each other. [Childhood Best Friends AU]





	1. do you believe in love at first sight?

**Author's Note:**

> This is just supposed to be a lighthearted story where Erik and Charles have known each other since they were children and stuck together all the years. I might write more if inspiration strikes and the speed of updates will definitely depend on the amount of attention this gets... I don't find much motivation to write when things only get 1 or 2 comments, because honestly writing has been especially hard lately due to writer's block. 
> 
> Otherwise this can be seen as a cute standalone piece, I hope you readers like it! :)
> 
> Chapter 1: Erik is 5 years old, Charles is 2 years old.

She’s sitting on the bench knitting her _bubala_ a scarf in his favourite color (red) when her five-year-old darling Erik approaches her, holding the hand of a small boy with curly brown hair. That is all that Edie can see of the child because he is half hidden behind her Erik.

“Mama,” Erik says and looks up at her with blue-green eyes that make her smile and think of Jakob.

“Yes, _bubala_? Who is this, did you make a friend?” Edie says, delighted that her baby had finally made a friend. Erik was a quiet, mature child, even taciturn at times so Edie had been worried about his lack of friends. It was a relief to finally see him voluntarily approach another child. She knew taking Erik to the park had been a good idea.

“I think he’s lost,” Erik said solemnly and tugged his new friend into view. Edie felt her heart melt at the sight of the boy. He was a pale chubby-cheeked child, with the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen and a little pink mouth. He was sucking on two of his tiny little fingers, a miniature Newton’s cradle hung from the other three. He had soft brown curls that fell over his forehead and curled around his neck. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years old, a toddler, a _baby._   He barely reached her Erik’s hip, although she must admit Erik was tall for a five-year-old. It must be his father’s genes.

The boy looked at her shyly from behind Erik, Edie smiled at him kindly, beckoning him closer with her free hand, the other draped in strings of red yarn. The boy clearly found something approving about her because he smiled gummily around the two fingers in his mouth. Edie just barely resisted the urge to coo. 

“Is he darling? Oh, how troublesome,” she said to Erik and her boy nodded somberly. The child at Erik’s hip stared up at Erik curiously and then tugged on his hand a little with the one still in her boy’s grasp. Tiny lily white fingers in her Erik’s bigger hands. Erik looked down at him and then at Edie.

“She’s my mama,” Erik told the boy and the child’s eyes widened in wonder. Edie wondered for a moment how Erik had possibly known what the boy was thinking, then smiled happily when she realized that her Erik already had such a deep connection with this boy that he could read nonverbal cues.

“What’s your name, honey?” Edie said softly, leaning down towards the blue-eyed toddler. He stared into her eyes, mystified before Erik answered for him.

“His name is Charles,” her boy said and she gave him a small look of reproach for answering for the boy. Erik quickly stared down at his shoes guiltily.

“That’s a pretty name! How old are you Charles?” Edie asked and was puzzled when no answer was forthcoming. She could see Erik open his mouth to reply and she stilled him with a look. It was rude to answer for others. Erik should let Charles speak for himself. Charles stared at her, eyes wide and unfocused, mouth still sucking on her fingers and then scrunched his face in concentration.

An image suddenly flashed before her eyes, of Charles’ holding up two fingers, but in front of her nothing changed. Charles’ right hand was still holding his toy, two fingers in his mouth, and his left was enclosed in Erik’s.   She gasped and stared at the brown-haired boy and then felt embarrassed that she had been so strict with her _bubala_. This boy was a mutant, just like her son.

“Ah, two years old I see. And a telepath I suppose?” she asked gently and the boy’s fingers plopped out of his mouth when he giggled joyfully and nodded vigorously, little brown curls bouncing on his forehead. She gave Erik a chastised smile, having scolded him for nothing and Erik stopped pouting and smiled at her tentatively.

“He’s lost, he keeps sending me pictures of his mama in my head,” Erik said and Edie gave her boy a proud look. He was so responsible and at such a young age, what a darling her Erik was. Erik preened under her gaze and stood up straighter.

“Oh dear, well how about we sit here at this bench and wait, I’m sure she will find her baby eventually!” Edie said good-naturedly, winking at the little brown-haired boy, who smiled widely at her again. His blue eyes seem to twinkle in delight and Edie felt as if she was sitting in warm rays of sunshine, when in fact, she was bundled up in a coat on a cold February day. Charles was projecting his feelings to her, what a dear.

“Honey, would you mind if I look through your pockets and see if I can find any information to contact your mother with?” Edie asked tenderly and Charles blinked at her.

“He says okay,” Erik replied and Edie hid a secret smile. Ah, it seems the baby boy preferred Erik’s mind over hers. They were already so close, it was lovely.  Edie put down her half-knitted scarf carefully on the bench before crouching in front of Charles. She put her hands on his small torso gently and grinned when Charles started giggling, blue eyes almost scrunched closed and cheeks pink from delight, coupled with his nose pink from the cold, it made an adorable picture.

She sifted through the pockets of his navy jacket and frowned when he found nothing. With Charles’ giggly permission, she unzipped his outer garment and sifted through the pockets of the yellow shirt he was wearing inside, then the pockets of his khaki pants but unfortunately found nothing, no piece of paper or card with the necessary details of who he was and who to contact if he were to get lost. Edie tried not to frown too deeply so as to not alarm the toddler, but inwardly, she was wondering what sort of parent did not put any contact information on their two-year-old toddler before sending the child running around in a playground. She carefully zipped up the boy’s jacket and then pinched his cheek playfully.

“Well, Charles, I couldn’t find anything but I’m sure your mother will be looking for you desperately. Do you mind sending me a picture of her? Like you sent to Erik?” she said slowly, hoping the baby understood what she meant. He seemed quite smart for his age so far but some of the words she had used were hard to understand even for a baby telepath. Charles looked at her confusedly for a moment, an adorable expression of consternation on his features, small mouth almost pouting and she laughed under her breath. Charles looked towards Erik for some assistance and to her surprise; her Erik smiled at the boy and then narrowed his eyes a bit in concentration.

Charles’ mouth opened in a small ‘O’ of realization and then he smiled gummily at Edie. An image of a young, short blonde-haired woman with a small nose and brown eyes flashed in her mind and she thanked Charles for the help.

Now, all they could do was wait. 

“Well, Charles. Why don’t you and Erik go play some more? Stay close please, _bubala_ I don’t want to lose sight of you both,” she said but instead of following Erik when he tugged on the boy’s hand, Charles toddled over to her on his short legs, staring entranced at the strings of red yarn she had picked up again. She chuckled.

“Ah, I see you are interested in my knitting, do you like the color red Charles?” Edie asked but Charles did not reply, now sucking on the fingers of his right hand, left holding tightly to the toy that had almost dangled out of his grasp earlier.

“It’s Erik’s favourite color,” she told the boy in a hushed, conspiratorial whisper that Erik scowled at. Charles had broken away from Erik fully now and had both chubby hands on Edie’s knees as he stared down at the yarn covering her lap. He came out of his trance when he heard Erik’s name and then smiled widely. An image of a silent, lonely Erik sitting on top of the jungle gym was thrust into her mind, accompanied by what felt like the mental equivalent of an exclamation mark. Edie bit her lip.

“Thank you for keeping my boy company, Charles,” she said politely and Charles thrust another image at her, one of a sunflower. If someone did not come pick up this boy, Edie was afraid she’d keep him. He truly was a delight. She laughed uproariously when Charles picked up the ball of red yarn in his chubby hands and plucked at it hither and thither until it unraveled fully, tangled in his stubby fingers. Charles made a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a “Wah!” and Edie burst into laughter.

Charles looked up at Eddy, blue eyes unblinking and then his distressed moue slowly transformed into a grin as he copied Edie and began to laugh, little giggles coming out of him, his chest shaking and little legs wobbling. He stumbled forward, trying to climb into Edie’s lap, but the yarn in his fingers had trailed to the floor and he tripped on it and abruptly fell backward on his bum with a thump. His Newton’s cradle fell out of his hand to the floor, hitting the bench on the way and breaking apart.

It was a comical picture, the blue-eyed, curly haired baby sprawled on the floor, miles of red yarn covering him, looped around his booties and winding around his chubby fingers, the metal balls of his toy scattered around him. Edie nearly laughed but faltered when the boy stared wide-eyed at the metal, picking one up in his hand and then his face scrunched up in abject misery. Charles’ eyes welled up with tears and his lip began to shake and seconds later he was bawling.

“Oh dear,” Edie muttered and moved to get up from her bench but before she could do so, Erik – silently on the sidelines this whole time – rushed towards Charles. He grabbed the toddler, arms hooked under the baby’s armpits and brought him to his feet. Charles stuttered for a second, staring at Erik but then resumed crying, big fat tears rolling down his pink cheeks. She saw Erik wince for a second, brows pinched like he had a headache then his face smoothed out with remarkable calm.

Edie watched as Erik let Charles go, steadying him on his feet before one hand grasped the toddler’s and his other he flung forward, palm out and fingers outstretched at the ground. He stared at the metal balls in concentration and slowly, the metal balls began to float in the air, the steel strings tied to them straightening and then finally coming together with the rod that had held them together to form the miniature Newton’s cradle.

Charles stopped crying, staring agape as Erik made the toy float towards him until finally, it was within grabbing distance of Charles, who snatched it up with one chubby hand with a wild cry. He stared at the toy, then at Erik and then his face broke into a smile. The blue-eyed baby babbled rapidly at Erik before practically pouncing on him and hugging Erik’s leg tightly.  Erik looked shocked and slightly uncomfortable, trying to shake off the toddler but Charles would not budge. Edie brought a hand up to her face to hide her smile. She desperately wanted to snap a picture of this, a two-year-old toddler covered in red yarn, clinging to her dear Erik, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights but she didn’t think Erik would appreciate it. Once you upset him, the boy could hold a grudge for months.  

“He says his papa gave it to him and also that his mama said his papa is in heaven now,” Erik told her seriously and she felt something in her chest hurt in sorrow. Oh, this poor child. She got up and gave her Erik a fierce one-armed hug. She was proud of his boy. 

Finally, to Erik’s relief, Charles unlatched himself from Erik’s leg and stared distrustfully at the red yarn covering his entire torso and legs. Edie saw his little bottom lip begin to wobble when his attempts to shake off the yarn failed and quickly before the child could begin bawling again, she untangled Charles from the red wooly mess he had made of himself. Charles blew her a raspberry and Edie grinned. Then something behind her caught his eye and he lit up with excitement.

Charles tugged continuously on Erik’s sleeve, babbling nonsense once again and Edie looked at her son questioningly. Erik gave her a wide-eyed, defeated look.

“He keeps sending me pictures of the swing, I think he wants to play,” Erik said in explanation and Edie chuckled.

“Go ahead _bubala_ I’ll call you over if I see his mama,” she said and Erik nodded at her. She watched with adoring amusement as Erik carefully took Charles’ hand and began to walk the toddler towards the swing. There was something incredibly protective in the way Erik held on tightly to the boy, making sure to avoid the rocks strewn around to prevent Charles from tripping on them because of his wobbly gait.

Edie sighed happily. She almost wished that she could take the baby boy home with her, but she knew only too well the sheer worry and panic his mother must be feeling.

Little did she know, that was only the beginning.

 


	2. just stay with me, i will love you endlessly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: Erik is 8 years old, Charles is 5 years old.

“What’s it like?” Charles asked eagerly, practically hopping from foot to foot. Erik tamped down his immediate disdain at his enthusiasm, remembering his mama admonishing him about being nice to Charles because he was younger and Erik should be a better role model.

“It’s boring,” Erik replies with a sigh. His mama also told him to always be honest. Charles’ face fell and he looked up at Erik with wide, disappointed blue eyes. Erik tried not to scowl at this. He started walking, feet hitting the pavement hard because of his annoyance at having to go to school. School meant being away from Charles for eight hours of the day, but it’s not like he’d tell his best friend that. He can see Charles struggling to keep pace with him in his periphery and he slows down the slightest bit, not enough so Charles can notice and give him that big, admiring, grateful, sparkly-eyed grin, the one he always subjects Erik to whenever Erik does anything nice. 

“It can’t be boring! You get to learn so much more than you do in Kindergarten! All we do is make crafts and play with building blocks and finger paint…” Charles said petulantly and Erik rolled his eyes. Most five-year-olds would be happy with that, but not Charles.

Erik had loved Kindergarten. The teacher left him alone for the most part once she realized he wasn’t going to jump about with the other kids. Erik could keep to himself and do whatever he wanted. He remembered the peaceful, lazy atmosphere of the kindergarten, where he could just sit in the corner with his metal blocks, tuning everyone out and building animals out of the floating steel. He had made a metal mouse for Charles once and that had been Charles’ favourite toy for an entire week. Charles didn’t really get what it was, though… because back then he was just a three-year-old baby and Erik was six.

Erik lost himself in his fond memory of Charles crawling around on the floor in his house, trying to catch the mouse which Erik flicked away with his powers every time Charles was just about to reach it. Charles would shriek and giggle before sending Erik happy pictures of sunflowers, daisies, and lilies in his head. The pictures made Erik feel warm inside, like when his mama made him hot chocolate on snow days. Charles never did that anymore… because of Kurt. Erik tried to tamp down the rage he felt because he just knew Charles would pick up on it and then Charles would be sad.

“Erik? Erik! Are you listening? Tell me more about what it’s like, it can’t be boring! What do they teach you? Do you get to learn about the Periodic Table? And peas? And fractions?” Charles babbled. When Erik remained silent the shorter boy started tugging on his sleeve, whining about how Erik was ignoring him and that wasn’t fair because Charles never ever ignored Erik. Erik fell for the guilt trip because of Charles stupid big blue eyes staring at Erik like that time he had yanked away Charles Newton’s cradle and made him cry.   

“It’s _terrible_ , I’m not lying. The teachers never leave you alone and the other kids are all loud and annoying. We learn about boring things like one plus one equals to two and who was the first American president!” Erik finally groaned and Charles fell silent. Erik kept walking, not turning to look at Charles because he didn’t want to look at Charles right now. He probably had that awful hurt look on his face, the one where he pouted, bottom lip shaking, stared at the ground and shut his mind off to Erik. That was always the worst part, not being able to feel Charles’ warm, sunny thoughts in his head. Erik liked it better when Charles didn’t talk. When Charles’ was little he only talked to Erik in his mind or shouted “ _Ewik_!” out loud when Erik stopped paying attention to him even for a minute. Now, all Charles does is talk out loud.

Erik buried his negative thoughts and tried not to frown. Mama said if he frowned all the time his face would stick that way. He hitched his backpack up his shoulders; the maroon backpack with a big yellow sticker on it that said “Erik Lehnsherr, Grade 1, Bronx Elementary School.” Charles remained silent behind him for a really long time and Erik felt the guilt build in his chest until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry! Okay! I’m not lying because _I_ think it’s boring but I think you would like it. They taught us about the Periodic Table in Science but there was nothing about peas,” Erik said and then gave Charles a weird look. _Peas?_ He thought incredulously. Charles gave him a bright smile. He started talking non-stop about all the elements, vibrating on his feet, eyes shining and curly brown hair bouncing because of all his exuberant gesturing. Erik did his best to pay attention but there was a thought niggling at him and he just couldn’t let it go.

“Charles,” he said, interrupting Charles in his explanation about how the elements in Group 1 went ‘boom!’ when you mixed them with water. Charles stopped and looked at him sheepishly when he realized he’d been talking for the past five minutes straight. He opened his mouth to apologize but Erik beat him to it with his question.

“Why don’t you talk to me in my head anymore?” Erik said as calmly as he could but inside he was battling with his anger and hurt. Charles stopped walking and stared at Erik with wide, scared eyes. Erik stopped too, turned towards the shorter boy and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. He waited, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground for Charles to answer. Charles looked anywhere but at him, eyes wandering before finally he let out a breath and replied:

“Kurt says it’s bad to talk to people in their head… He said it – it vio.. violates their privacy,” Erik saw Charles pause and furrow his eyebrows, like he was repeating words he didn’t really understand himself, “He also said I should try to be normal because it makes mother sad when I use my powers,” Charles finished and Erik clenched his fists. He ground his teeth and tried not to scream. He could feel himself shaking with rage. _Normal?_ Erik shouted in his mind because he knew Charles wouldn’t hear, he was too busy listening to _Kurt Marko_.

“Kurt is a dick, you shouldn’t listen to him,” Erik growled with a stomp of his foot, involuntarily starting to tower over Charles and Charles inched backward, stumbling on his feet a bit. Charles was staring at him, mouth agape.

“Erik… that’s a – that’s a bad word, you shouldn’t call him that,” Charles whispered, eyes wide and Erik bit back another scream. He surged forward and put both hands on Charles’ shoulders, shaking him in his grasp to try and shake some sense into him.

“He deserves it! He’s a bad man, Charles. You don’t need to be normal! You’re better than him,” Erik said loudly and from Charles frightened expression he knew all the metal around them was floating in the air threateningly.

“Erik, please stop,” Charles whimpered, face growing paler when he looked over Erik’s shoulder. Erik could hear background noise, whispers, and tittering of the people in his neighbourhood. He stopped. Erik didn’t stop for them, though, he stopped because Charles was shivering and Erik hated himself because he made Charles scared. He was never supposed to make Charles scared. Kurt made Charles scared and Erik wasn’t Kurt – he wasn’t. Erik staggered back.

“I’m sorry Charles, I’m so sorry, I’m-” Erik said desperately _. I just miss you, I miss you in my head_ , Erik wanted to say but apparently he said it loud enough in his mind for Charles to hear because Charles gave him a weak smile.

 _Its okay, I know you didn’t mean it._ Charles whispered in his head and Erik gasped because the words felt like bright rays of sunshine caressing his skin, making him bloom like the petals of flowers that Charles loved to send mental pictures of when he was a baby. _Thank you_ , Erik told Charles telepathically, and then grinned at Charles as they turned back towards the road, walking to Erik’s house, carefully ignoring all the stares they were getting.

“There are mutants in the school too,” Erik said and Charles whipped around to look at him with wide-eyed wonder and manic excitement. Before the barrage of questions could start in full swing – _“Really? What are they like? What are their names? What are their powers? Are they coo-”_ – Erik began to tell Charles all about them, how one of the older boys had wings, big feathery ones like a bird and how a girl could shoot funny sparks out of her fingers and how another could move things with her mind.

They walked companionably towards Erik’s house and for a while, everything was okay because Erik could feel Charles tentative touch at the edge of his mind like a sunflower petal brushing feather-light against his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the first chapter got so many responses, I decided to write another one! In this Erik is now 8 years old and Charles is 5 years old. I hope this chapter didn't feel too boring! I'm trying to keep the adjectives simple for now since they're still kids, so the word choices are kind of repetitive... 
> 
> I'll probably continue this series with the 2-3 year time skips. On a side note, Cain hasn't been introduced because Kurt Marko isn't currently Charles' stepfather yet, but he will be mentioned later on when Kurt marries Sharon. There will be themes of mutant discrimination and suppression in this, because it is kind of an integral part of Charles and Erik's relationship in canon, but I'm trying to keep it as lighthearted as possible (because personally, I'm really tired of all the angst in this fandom)
> 
> PS. By 'peas', Charles is referring to Mendel and his cross-breeding of pea plants, a very important discovery in genetics! Charles is very intelligent for his age, much like in canon. Sorry for the terribly long author's note, I'm a rambler.
> 
> EDIT: Just to clarify, Erik is in Grade 1 at age 8 because Erik's a year older than his peers. He went to school a year later because he started Kindergarten a year late. (Jakob likes to joke that Edie loved Erik too much to let him go to Kindergarten when he was 6 and ended up homeschooling him for a year. Obviously, it was Erik's idea, he's a stubborn little kid isn't he? He thought Kindergarten sounded lame but jokes on you Erik you ended up loving it).


	3. can't say i've felt such a twisting in my heart this way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: Erik is 12 years old, Charles is 9 years old. Erik's in Grade 5 and Charles is in Grade 3. (Erik started Kindergarten a year later, at age 7. I mention this is in the author notes of Chapter 2)

Erik studiously ignored Charles, focusing on the fractional sums he had to complete for his fifth grade Maths homework. Charles either didn’t notice Erik’s exaggerated focus or chose not to be bothered by it because he continued to creep closer, inch by inch, shuffling along the soft, light green couch until his thigh was nearly pressed to Erik’s own. Erik could see Charles’ peeking at his worksheet in his peripheral vision, trying to be surreptitious but failing spectacularly. Erik suppressed the urge to roll his eyes heavenward and set his jaw mulishly.

It was when soft, murmuring images of fractions began drifting into his consciousness well before he had even calculated the answers that he finally set his pencil down sharply and turned his torso towards Charles, glaring heavily at the smaller boy. Charles startled and jumped back at Erik’s unexpected attention. Erik continued to aim a withering glare at him, Charles stared back with big, innocent blue eyes, yellow-tinted, faux confusion prodding at the edges of Erik’s mind until he could ignore his irritation no longer.

“Can you stop doing my homework and focus on your own, Charles?” Erik snapped, grey-green eyes blazing and Charles slumped, shoulders downturned and frowned piteously at Erik, finally giving up the pretence of innocence.

“But mine is just so boring, I already finished it like ten minutes ago!” Charles whined, eyes pleading and pink lips downturned as he stared imploringly at Erik. _Please_ , it brushed along his consciousness like the sensation of nudging fingers just gently pressing onto his wrist, a silent begging that turned into a mental shove to the shoulder so fast Erik nearly jumped out of his skin.

“No, Charles, you can’t do my homework, it’s supposed to be done by _me_ ,” Erik groaned, collapsing backward onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling in incredulous distress. Charles made another pathetic whining noise and scooted even closer, climbing into Erik’s lap to kneel and stare down at Erik from above. Mischievous blue eyes entered his vision, soon followed by a nose dusted with little freckles, then a softly grinning mouth, Charles’ hair curled over his pale forehead and fell into his eyes. Erik stared upwards with a dispassionate, annoyed expression. He was not going to fall for the puppy dog eyes trick, he was twelve now and Charles was nine, he wasn’t a baby anymore. Clearly, Charles was not going to give up either and so, an impromptu stare down was initiated.

During this stare down, idle thoughts drifted lazily through Erik’s mind, about how Charles' hair was really growing long now, some of the strands were freeing themselves from where they were tucked behind Charles’ ears slowly and inexorably due to gravity and were almost long enough to brush against Erik’s cheek. Charles really needed to cut his hair, or else a lot more people would start mistaking him for a girl, Erik thought, especially since he already looked so much like a girl. This last thought was vindictive, also quite intentional and Erik tried not to smirk when he saw a flash of affront in Charles’ eyes when he heard that particularly loud thought.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Erik and Erik saw the boy’s mouth twitch a little before suddenly Erik was assaulted with a horrifically embarrassing memory that Charles probably dug out just for the occasion. Erik struggled to hold his poker face when moving images were thrust into his mind of that time he’d challenged Logan – Erik _hated_ Logan – to a race in the park.

It was a rainy day and Charles kept trying to convince him to go back home already: “ _Edie will make us hot chocolate with marshmallows and we can watch cartoons, or make a blanket fort, or oh- oh! I know we can play-_ ” and on and on the suggestions went. Erik refused and stopped listening to Charles’ rambling five minutes in. If Logan was going to give him that cocky, annoying smirk and stay in the park even when they were all being pelted with rain and with one wrong step they would be submerged in puddles five inches deep, then so would Erik. Erik wasn’t weak, far from it. He was going to stay. Charles stared in despair when Logan and Erik took the ready positions, but grudgingly counted “ _1… 2… 3… Go!_ ” for them.

The race ended with Charles laughing himself sick when Erik – beating Logan by half a dozen meters – turned back to smile arrogantly at Logan and then promptly tripped and fell into a mud puddle. He tried to suppress a cringe when he saw himself in Charles’ memory, face covered in mud, clothes stained something awful, staring gob-smacked at a red-faced, giggling Charles who had given him a hand up. Erik walked home that day utterly humiliated, Logan’s rip-roaring laughter ringing through his ears with Charles stifling his amusement, holding his hand for support when they walked home (Erik didn’t ask for that okay! He was a big boy) and sending him soothing thoughts until they got home and Erik realized… _Mama is going to **kill** me_. He realized that day that anything Logan could do paled in the face of Edie’s wrath.

Erik stared upwards at Charles adamantly, ignoring the mental impressions of Charles’ laughter, sunshine bright and ringing like bells in his mind. Erik’s poker face hadn’t faltered and Charles was going to lose patience soon. Charles was never good at being patient. That was one thing Erik was much, much better at. Just as he thought, Charles brows began to furrow, bottom lip shuddering and eyes squinting down at Erik. More impressions, childhood memories, combative thoughts were thrown at him but Erik just looked up at Charles calmly. Charles broke two minutes later.

“ _Oh come on_! Please, please let me do your homework! See, I’m done with _my_ homework, so if I do your homework _for_ you, we’ll both be done with our homework and then if we call Edie to ask again, Edie will let us play!” Charles reasoned, voice high strung and eyes pleading. When this failed and Erik continued to stare at Charles expressionlessly, the only movement on his face being the unimpressed quirk of an eyebrow, Charles continued desperately:

“It’s not even a big deal or anything because I _like_ Math, I like doing homework, all the things we learn in grade three are so easy, this looks much more fun! Besides, I do Cain’s homework all the ti– ” Charles cut himself off and went as pale as a ghost. Any amusement that had been fluttering in Erik’s chest died, crushed under a wave of abject fury.

It was like being doused with cold water, except Erik felt like someone had set him aflame.

“What… did you just say?” Erik said slowly, carefully but Charles could see, could feel the anger simmering under the surface and within the space of a second his friend was off his lap and sitting at the corner of the couch, curled into the armrest, far away from Erik and his questions. Erik turned towards him and took a long breath through his nose, trying to calm down. He wasn’t angry at Charles, he wasn’t but somehow it always scared Charles when Erik got angry.

Distantly, Erik revisited an old, guilt-ridden memory. The memory of a three-year-old Charles tugging on his shirt sleeve impatiently, again and again, asking for something, not even Erik remembered – a toy maybe? The last cookie? Erik couldn’t remember what it was now but what he did remember in striking clarity was snapping angrily at Charles, furiously annoyed and Charles cowering back, bottom lip shaking and eyes welling up with tears before he hid his eyes in a shirtsleeve and ran away. It had taken hours of coaxing and finally asking Mama to help, shame-faced and miserable, to help him get Charles back, please, for Charles to finally venture out of the corner he had chosen to hide in. (It had only taken two minutes after Erik’s apology for him to start smiling and sending him flowers in his head again.)

Erik snapped out of it, refocusing on the present and carefully shuffled closer to Charles. He stared at his lap for a few moments, taking deep breaths before upturning his face and looking at Charles.

“Charles… Why do you do Cain’s homework?” Erik asked calmly, trying to fling comforting thoughts at Charles like the telepath did so effortlessly. In contrast, it took Erik a great deal of effort, he had to first think about burrowing into his Mama’s bed after a nightmare, feeling ensconced in the blankets and her arms, warm and safe and then he just thought the feelings really loud until Charles felt them too. Erik didn’t really think he succeeded all that often but Charles stared back at him warily before smiling a bit, a small smile and then allowing Erik to shuffle even closer.

Erik rested a hand lightly on Charles’ where his friend was clutching his light blue shirt tightly. Charles flinched before relaxing, loosening his hold and letting Erik grab it and rub his thumb over the back of his hand, soothingly. _Is it weird_ , he thought suddenly, _to hold hands with Charles?_ He wondered what the boys at his school would say, briefly, before stamping it down in disgust. Why should he care? Charles was his best friend and Charles clearly liked Erik holding his hand, so Erik would hold his hand, pure and simple. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Charles answered.

“He makes me,” he whispered uncertainly, hesitantly, peering at Erik like Erik was a bomb about to explode, or an anvil about to slam itself down on Wile E. Coyote’s head. Erik quickly buried the anger he felt surfacing at the admission, pressing it down, _down_ and focusing on Charles. For a moment, Erik said nothing.

“Not that I mind! I mean, he’s… he’s mean about it but I don’t think he realizes that I… kind of enjoy it. He’s in grade seven, so his homework’s a lot more interesting than mine or even yours,” Charles continued, brightening a bit and it hurts something in Erik’s chest when he realizes Charles truly does not hate Cain for it. He can’t stop the anger this time because it’s not his own, it’s on Charles’ behalf. His grip on Charles' hand tightens and when Charles eyes widen and he looks about to bolt, Erik squeezes and doesn’t let go.

“You need to stop doing his homework,” Erik said, voice like the steel, unyielding like metal until he manipulated it with his powers and Charles face crumpled into an expression of hurt. I _thought you understood,_ he feels in his mind, an involuntary whisper of Charles thoughts. They’re not yellow-tinted this time, they’re a miserable watery, disappointed blue and the color felt so wrong in his mind Erik wished he could physically rip it out and throw it far, far away from him.

“Charles, he’s bullying you. You can’t do his homework, that’s giving in. You need to tell somebody, you need to… You need to tell your mom,” Erik stressed, shuffling closer, still gripping Charles’ hand even when Charles tried to struggle out of his grip, face pale and eyes sad. 

“No,” Charles said stubbornly, voice sounding like it was ripped out of his throat in its intensity, blue eyes burning and expression fiery. Erik clenched his jaw and stared obstinately at Charles.

“Yes, you will. You have to,” Erik argued, voice rising in volume and Charles glared daggers at him, red spots appearing on his cheeks as he tried to yank his hand out of Erik’s, but Erik’s hand was bigger than his and Erik refused to let go.

“Let me go!” Charles yelled and kicked at him with his feet but Erik just shoved himself closer, looming over Charles on his knees and trapping him by the armrest. Charles kept screaming, kicking and shoving and Erik remained unmoving, just as stubborn as the nine-year-old in his grasp. Erik didn’t know how long this continued but the whole time, he hadn’t let Charles go.

“She doesn’t care, Erik! _She doesn’t care_!” Charles finally screamed, voice so loud and hoarse that Erik jolted, his hold loosened and Charles wrenched his hand out, rubbing his wrist with his other hand before stumbling off the couch and running into the kitchen, eyes full of tears and face a splotchy red.

Erik sat there, silently trying to comprehend what exactly that meant. He sat for a long time, ignoring how he could hear a quiet muffled sniffling from the kitchen. His mind felt cold and his hands felt colder. Charles mother didn’t… care… He tried to think about what it would be like if his own Mama didn’t care, didn’t knit him scarves, didn’t bake him cookies, didn’t pack him lunch and didn’t comfort him that time he came home with a bruise on his cheek and scraped knuckles. He failed to imagine it. He remembered Charles terrified, heartbroken face and sat there for a long time remembering it, feeling guilt washing at the shores of his mind like a tidal wave that ebbed and flowed but always came back, never gone for long.

It wasn’t until tentative, pale yellow thoughts fluttered at the boundaries of his mind that Erik stood up and walked into the kitchen, following the phantom trail of telepathic connection in his short journey from the living room to the room Mama’s presence was permeated in. Charles always did love cuddling up to her on the couch (“ _Edie! Edie, can I sit in your lap?_ ” always with warm thoughts and sunflower petals). Erik stared at his feet the whole way, battling with his emotions, guilt and lingering anger, Charles’ yellow presence flitting careful circles around his mind the whole time. He only looked up when he reached the doorway, feeling smaller than ever with the ceiling so high above him and his friend so far away.

“I’m sorry,” Erik muttered, still staring at his feet. Apologies were always the hardest for him; no matter how many times his Mama told him apologizing made you a bigger and better person than being a stubborn, angry little boy did. 

“It’s okay,” Charles whispered and a soft touch, inviting, sunflower petal soft, stole into his mind. Erik felt forgiven and that was what finally made him look up. Charles was sitting on the counter, legs dangling and a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. Erik had a small moment of understanding when he realized what Mama meant by ‘comfort cookies.’ 

Erik walked tentatively towards Charles but stopped a distance away, remembering how he had encroached in his friend’s personal space earlier and upset him. Charles handed him a cookie and Erik bit into it morosely, communicating his regret to Charles with his eyes and his mind. Charles smiled at him, just the tiniest bit and Erik felt relieved.

“You’re right you know… I shouldn’t do his homework. He’s a meanie… but I like doing his homework… I don’t let him take my lunch money, though! I always run away before he can do that,” Charles insisted and Erik, try as he might, couldn’t smile back. There was something thrumming uncomfortably in his chest, below his ribs, like a bird was stuck there and flapping its wings. The bird flew up and lodged in his throat when Charles nudged at his mind for an answer. Erik swallowed and shook his head. _Wait_ , he said nonverbally through this gesture and Charles waited.

Erik thought long and hard about what he’d like to do to Cain, if he met him, even though Charles said he was big, bigger than Erik even… Erik could take him. Erik had powers and Cain didn’t. He imagined attacking the imagined older boy in his mind with metal balls, flinging them at him until he was black and blue with bruises, imagined making the steel melt around his wrists like a handcuff if he even tried, _even_ _tried_ to hurt his friend. The bird in his throat disappeared. Erik looked up at Charles and nodded resolutely.

“I’ll protect you from him,” Erik said earnestly, let all his thoughts swim around in his mind so Charles could look through them, yellow fingers flipping through a mental photo album. Charles looked shocked, then pleasantly surprised and then…He burst into laughter.

Erik gaped at him, outraged, _it wasn’t… it wasn’t funny!_

“Charles, why are you laughing?” Erik moaned pitifully but Charles was laughing like the time Erik fell in the mud, his face going red and tears rolling down his cheek. He laughed and laughed until Erik sullenly pulled himself up on the counter and munched sulkily on his half-eaten cookie. It was an insultingly long time later that Charles stopped laughing.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just imagining you as a knight. You know, like a knight in shining armour. Except the knights are always so tall and you’re _small_ , so it ended up being a really funny picture,” Charles said in amusement, thrusting the image he had cooked up into Erik’s head. It was Erik himself, in full-plate armour, but the armour was too big, the helmet fell down to his neck and the gauntlets on his arms fell too long, like the sleeves of a too-large sweater and when Erik tried to walk in his full-body plated armour, he fell over with a ‘ _clank!_ ’

“I’m not small! I’m taller than you! I’m taller than everyone in my class! _You’re_ small,” Erik yelped and Charles burst into another fit of laughter.

After a few minutes of brooding, Erik joined him and they laughed themselves silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I promised you all a lighthearted fic and the angst creeped in. Honestly this chapter had a mind of its own. Charles' canon home life had to show up at some point though. I hope I fixed the angst a bit at the end! 
> 
> I recently realised I've done two consecutive chapters in Erik's POV, perhaps it's time for Charles? We'll see. 
> 
> *crosses fingers that I didn't romanticise this too much bECAUSE THEY ARE LIKE, KIDDOS.* (Slap me with a comment if its getting too weird, it's pretty platonic though... like, of course it won't stay platonic forever, but like, KIDDOS)

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song "Best Days" by Matt White. All chapter titles are lyrics, in no particular order, from aforementioned song.


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